Weefreemen in the city
by Just Mat
Summary: Tiffany visits AnkhMorpork and gets framed for a murder. Vimes on the case. This is not a slashstory. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not think I own any of these characters or other stuff, except for Kred. If I have forgotten something, please notify me. Oh, and if the words the Pictsies use are not correct, do not blame me, I lent someone my "Wee-free-men". Later chapters will probably be better. And oh yeah, I have not read Wintersmith yet, so if you have a complaint, consider this in your calculations.

* * *

Bye-Bye

She kissed her father on the cheeck. "Are you sure you have everything?" Her mother asked again.

"I'm fine", she repeated.

Her father sighed, "Just make sure you're back in time for the festival." (1)

"I'll be fine dad, don't worry. Would I ever miss it?" She asked, while she stepped into the coach.

"No, you wouldn't!" He admitted. He flashed her a smile.

Her mother just stood there, holding Wentworth's hand. Wentworth, was eating a sweety. "Almost ready?" the driver asked.

"Yes, I'm ready," she replied. Her foot rested on the ground a second longer, before she lifted it and sat down in the coach. She would miss the Chalk. She heard a whip crack, and the coach started to move. She saw her family waving, and absently waved back. She wondered what it would be like in Ankh-Morpork.

((1) The spring festival)

* * *

"Ach! Crivens! The hag's leav'in agaen." 

"Ach! You're right, com'oon, we've got'ta tell Rob."

And the two dissapeared.

* * *

"Are yoo sure?" he asked. 

"Corse we ar!" exclaimed wee John. "We been spy'in on her all af'ternoon!"

"Ok. Ok. I believe you." he shushed Wee John. This was hard, he, Rob Anybody, was about to declare war on the Wee-free-men to the north. This had to happen, because they had stolen a sheep on their territory. But he also needed to protect Tiffany. He couldn't go himself. Who to send? Not the toad, the toad was their strongest weapon. Not Daft Wullie, he wasn't smart, but he was a good fighter. "Wee John", he called.

"Yes"

"You and Kred go after her, and see that she's well tak'n care oov. Keep in touch!" (2)

"K" Came the reply.

((2)All the Wee-Free-Men now had the ability to read and write, although not well.)

* * *

Meanwhile, Tiffany was not quite enjoying her ride. The road was very bad, and she kept being thrown in all directions. She righted her hat yet again. She wondered what Ankh-Morpork would look like. Maybe there were loads of witches there. 

While she was musing, the coach stopped for another rider. A small boy with a tomcat stepped in. Tiffany greeted him, but paid no further attention to him. She was fourteen now, but her hormones weren't really active yet.

It soon became dark, but Tiffany would not allow herself to fall asleep while there was another person in the coach. A trait she had taken off Granny Weatherwax. So she stayed awake. Amusing herself by watching the stars for a long time. The boy fell asleep after mere hours. Tiffany's first thoughts told her she could also sleep now, since the boy wouldn't be able to notice it in state he found himself in. But her second thoughts didn't agree. Saying the boy could wake up at any moment, so she stayed awake.

* * *

Luckily, the boy was still asleep when she awoke. She had really not wanted to sleep. But exhaustion had finally claimed her after a while. She looked out of the holes in her doors that were supposed to resemble windows(1). Before her loomed a very big thing. She had arrived in Ankh-Morporkh...

((1) (They just weren't big enough, you wouldn't be able to balance even a very small pie on the sill(2)(3))

((2) (Tiffany lived on a farm, where pies are constantly wafting on window sills. Although everyone knows that they always get stolen by pesky little boys. Scientists think farmers do it on purpose, so hyperactive kids get their medicines at regular intervals(4))

((3) (A lot of nobles tend to get bored during long journeys. And people generally lean on their elbows when they are bored. For this particular reason, small sills have been installed in modern coaches, so nobles can be bored more comfortably))

((4) (They put the medicine in the pie))

* * *

Well, mensjes, gens, and people. This was my first chapter. If you have complaints, please review. If you would like to say how good it was, please review. If you do not want to say anything, please still review. Oh, and just so you now, this is most certainly not going to be one of those idiot slash-stories. I repeat, this is NOT going to be a stupid slash-story, where the two most unlikely persons meet, fall in love and become gay or anything. My sister loves those story, and I just can't stand them. Thank you for liking the first chapter.


	2. The city

I would like to thank my reviewers for the reviews, and for letting me know that I do not stand alone in my battle against /stories. Here is chapter 2. Do enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters up until now (I write this before I start this chapter).

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A city

Tiffany kept walking. The city was working on her nerves. Everywhere she looked, she could see buildings. She had spent her life in the country, and Lacre too had mainly bare soil. The ground herewas made completely of stone. She shook her head. Calm, that was the thing. Be calm, and act like a witch. She felt above her head. Her hat was still there. This made her feel better, but she still wished someone else she knew was there. Even Wentworth would help. She looked at the small piece of paper again. Wicklane 89. She had absolutely no idea where that was. She looked around for a streetsign. The buildings loomed over her again, but she ignored them this time. She thought she spotted a pole. She started towards it, but it was hard pushing through the crowd.

Two men in chainmail, running after a troll(1), suddenly rounded the corner in front of her. She assumed they were men of the watch.The troll was faster, and people jumped out of the way for him. The Watchmen had a very hard time keeping up. No matter how hard they shouted, no one lept aside for them. While looking at the watchmen, Tiffany hadn't payed attention to the Troll. Who, since she did not leap aside, swatted her aside with a single blow.

The last things she heard before she hit the pavement were: "Ae! That's noo way ta treat a Hag!"

Nay, ye treat 'r wit' respect, ye ken!"

((1) Tiffany never before saw a troll(2))

((2) At least, in the stories I have read))

* * *

Her body was lying on something soft. Or wait, no! It was very hard. Very, very hard. And something was beneath her left shoulderblade. She tried to get up and reach for it, but her head hurt too much. So she groaned instead.

She fluttered her eyes, trying to open them so she could see where she was. But they shut immediately after each attempt. Her left arm spasmed suddenly, and hit something hard. Her hand immediately started stinging. Why had her hand spasmed. She lost consciousness again.

* * *

A/N: This was it again. I know the chapter is pretty short, again. But... That's just the way I write. If anyone wants to know where Tiffany is, do review. When my total for this story has doubled, I will post another chapter. 


	3. Flash

Well, I got the reviews I asked for after one/two days. I know this chapter is extremely short, even for me, but I didn't have much time before I had to leave for the entire weekend. And I wanted to give you something. When I get back, I'll immediately start on the next chapter. Have fun!!!

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Flash

Tiffany's mother opened the letter. She laid the opener back on the table and unfolded the paper in her hands. Tiffany thought she looked pretty calm. But then, she didn't know what the letter was about. Tiffany did, and she didn't like it much. Her mother was now on the third line, she wasn't really a fast reader. Tiffany saw her hands were starting to shake slightly, but her mother tried to hide it by laying the paper on the table and folding her hands behind her back. Tiffany shook her head at the silliness of her mother. She should know by now that her daughter wasn't a child anymore, to be fooled so easily...

The Kitchen Tiffany was sitting in faded, taking her mother, the table and the paper with it. She woke up in the same place she had been earlier, but nothing was stabbing her in the back now. Apparently someone had removed it. She tried to open her eyes again. This time, she caught a glimpse of darkness before her eyes closed again. She let her consciousness go into her hand, and noticed the pain was still there. How long had she been asleep? She drifted off again.

* * *

Well that was it. I told you it was short. Anyway... Oh, there doesn't seem to be an anyway.


	4. More flash

More flash

The letter was small, with very small letters. Tiffany's father had made a joke about that, but no one had laughed. One reason was that it just wasn't funny, but the most important reason was that nobody felt like laughing.

Tiffany was sitting on her bed, while her mother packed her stuff. She read the letter again. To see if there was something she had missed. She had not…

_Dear Witch Aching,_

_Due to certain matters of state on the whole of the discworld, we ask a representative from every part to come together for a congregation. Since you, on the chalk, are considered the wisest by many, we assumed you would be the most likely and efficient. _

_The congregation will take place five days past Small god's eve, and a coach will be sent to you four days earlier. You will then arrive in Ankh-Morpork after a trip of one day, so you will have a chance to settle, for the meeting will probably be at least two weeks. The coach driver will give you the exact location of the place you will be staying._

_If you wish not to come, or arrive on another date, please inform us by sending a note. We will await your reply._

_Greetings,_

_The society for the well being of A'tuin._

Tiffany hated it. But she knew these people were probably right. After all, she was the only witch on the entire chalk. She wondered what these certain matters were, but could not find a clue after scanning it yet again. She leaned backwards and fell on the bed.

"Are you alright, honey?" Her mother asked, although she already knew the answer. Tiffany would never admit it to someone if she wasn't alright. She was a witch, and if she had reason to worry, people would get scared.

Then came the daze again. She remembered it from before. She had it every time when she went from one dream to another. That time when she had remembered the arrival of the coach, and after she had finished packing her bags. She knew there was some meaning in the memories she saw. As if something in her was trying to tell her something.

Then came consciousness. She opened her eyes, and realised she could raise her arms. Realising this, she raised her head and looked around. She was in a small room, with walls on three sides, and bars on the last one. A fat man was dosing in the corner. She got up from the stone bench she had been lying on. Her back hurt, and she felt stiff. She assumed this was a good reason to move. This way, she knew, the stiffness would go away.

After she had moved a bit, she felt much better, although her back still hurt. She sat down again. The walk, however small it had been, had exhausted her.

"Hey!" She called to the guard. He stirred, but did not wake. "Hey!" she called again, louder this time. The guard still wouldn't wake. She gave up. If she'd say Hey! any louder she would be yelling. And witches didn't yell.

Then she heard footsteps. She looked towards the dark end of the room behind the bars, where the footsteps were coming from. When she managed to identify a shape, coming closer, she allowed herself a small smile. Witches didn't have to scream to get the attention of someone who did not practice witchcraft.

The man looked at her. He was fatter than the other guy, and had a face that could be called jolly. In short, it was Colon. Tiffany did not know this however. She glared at him, Colon glared back. After some minutes, Colon broke the contact.

"What?" he demanded.

"Where am I?" Tiffany demanded.

"How long have you been awake?" Colon asked uncertainly. (1)

Tiffany glared at him even harder and repeated her question: "Where am I?"

"Why? You are in prison, of course." He answered.

A moment of shock and fear overwhelmed Tiffany, but she quickly overcame it. "You will release me right now!" She demanded, giving him no room for argument.

The fat man became uncertain, but then another man came down the stairs. He grimaced at her. "Do you know why you are here?" He asked. The man was somewhere in his middle-years, and he had a big scar down his face.

Tiffany did not know why she was here, but she wasn't about to let the man know that. "Of course I do."

"In that case I will not have to explain. Leave us Colon, go make some tea."

Tiffany agreed with tea. Tea was calming. She looked at the man, who was now walking towards her cell with the keys. Turning one that was turning into dust in the lock, he patiently waited until she let go of the bars before opening the cell door. He let her out and gestured for her to sit down on a stool. She did so. The man sat down on the table. "Do you admit it?"

Tiffany knew she had gotten herself into a situation now. She had no idea what the man was talking about. She played for time. "And you are?"

"My name is Vimes. I am commander of the watch." He half opened his mouth as if to go on, but he quickly snapped it shut again. "And you are?"

She sniffed. You didn't talk to a witch like this. Nevertheless, she had no other possibility. And this question was better than the other one. "My name is Tiffany Aching, and I am a witch from the Chalk. I am here on political business."

Colon, who had just been walking down the stairs with two cups of tea, grimaced. The tea tasted good to Tiffany's dried tongue, but it was actually disgusting. Bravely she took another sip. The man on the table put his cup away after the first taste. He then turned to her again. "Do you admit to murdering Bern?"

She looked at him. He dared accuse a witch of murder. Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice calm, calm and threatening. "What evidence have you that you could even consider such a thing?" She cocked her head at the end of the sentence, studying his face.

Vimes sighed. "We have none."


End file.
